


Piece of Home

by h_itoshi



Category: Hey! Say! JUMP
Genre: AU, London-centered, M/M, lowkey angst except not really, technically mostly pwp
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-30
Updated: 2019-06-30
Packaged: 2020-05-31 09:57:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19423636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/h_itoshi/pseuds/h_itoshi
Summary: Sometimes, Keito just stares at the cracked paint in his ceiling and wonders what the hell he's doing here. What made him leave everything he had back home to go halfway across the world and study English in London. Trading a big house, lots of friends and a language skill considered great for this shabby apartment, a couple friends he's not too close with and having to struggle to find the words to express himself.





	Piece of Home

**Author's Note:**

> This is one of my long runners in the wip department. I started writing it back in 2016 I think, because after I wrote the fluffiest London fic ever for an exchange, I wanted to portray the other side of London that I also love.  
> So this was the obvious pairing, and I actually really like the vibe of this fic. It was meant to be much longer, like a 5-7 chapters fic, but I never got any further than this and now I'm sick of seeing it in my wip folder knowing I'll never finish it.  
> So here, please enjoy it as a oneshot!

Sometimes, Keito just stares at the cracked paint in his ceiling and wonders what the hell he's doing here. What made him leave everything he had back home to go halfway across the world and study English in London. Trading a big house, lots of friends and a language skill considered great for this shabby apartment, a couple friends he's not too close with and having to struggle to find the words to express himself.

But then he has a better day, steps outside to walk along dirty streets lined with black iron fences where verdure tries its hardest to climb over, and remembers that he loves this. Loves the white façades of houses that have a grimy brick backside, the TV wires criss-crossing over the tall slim rows of houses that needed their windows repaired 15 years ago. Loves the cracks in pavements and brick buildings and the hint of ivy peeking out everywhere, loves the green algae and black dirt in all the nooks and crevices of the city like a reminder of the industrialization and coal covering it 200 years ago. Loves the way nothing is perfect here. Doesn't have to be perfect.

His apartment is tiny, slim and old and could use a major renovation, the pipes rusty and paint chipping off the walls in the corners, but it works great for him.

Back home, everything always had to be flawless. The house impeccably clean, modern, clothes brand, friends begging to hang out everyday, study results top of the class.

Here, he can walk around in his old jeans and a knit shirt and people think he looks nice, he gets through school and that's good enough, and everyone's places look like his or worse, so there's no pressure there.

But sometimes, he still misses home so much his chest hurts. When his litterature exam felt impossible to pass, when he was sick for a week and didn't feel like he had anyone to call for help, when he just has a bad day and can't fall asleep. He doesn't necessarily feel like he wants to go home. But he misses the safety of it.

He's here for an exchange year, and it's already February, he's got a group of classmates that hang out together and he feels a lot better about the language. Things are okay.

Then he meets Yuto.

It feels like the odds of it happening is one in a million, but when Keito thinks about it, it still seems so logical.

He goes out to eat with his friends at a pub. They're a big, noisy group of eight people and there's a cute young girl trying her hardest to take their orders and get everything right, but Keito doesn't think too hard about that. It's when their food arrives that he's so distracted he barely remembers what dish he's having.

The young waiter is tall and dark, black hair and black eyes going beautifully with his chiselled face and flirty smile. He's obviously Asian, but he doesn't speak enough for Keito to figure out his accent, only hands out food with little flattering comments for the girls and friendly smiles for the boys, and when his eyes meet Keito's he feels himself reflexively blushing.

His friends are too busy whistling over a girl in their company who can't even reply when she receives her plate and so Keito's incriminating blush thankfully goes unnoticed.

“Didn't know you were into Asians.” They coo at her, and there goes Keito's peace, being asked about what country their waiter could be from, trying to make him ask and he refuses, and someone even implies that she should hook up with him instead. Which makes them both utterly uncomfortable.

They start eating and drinking their beer, talking about other things, but Keito can't keep his eyes off the pretty waiter as he slips from table to table with food and drinks and whatever people are asking for. Then he stops by their table to ask if everything is alright, if the food is good, and even though he must notice their whole table grinning at the blushing girl ogling him, he still looks straight at Keito for a long moment. It makes Keito a little hot if he's completely honest, but he'd never admit it because how desperate is it to get a massive one night crush on a cute waiter just because he hasn't seen attractive Asian men in half a year.

But it's not until much later that evening, after his table has had several extra beers, some had dessert and it's finally time to get the check, that he's convinced this man is Japanese.

He shows up at their table with a small silver plate with their long check on it, and as Keito and the girl next to him is most sober, he puts it down in between them. He smells good, Keito's already noticed, a nice cologne under the smell of warm cloth and food, but it's becoming more and more prominent in Keito's mind with more beer in him.

But as he reads closer on the long receipt than the final sum, at the top under the name of the pub, it says “service: Yuto”, and he feels a small spark of happiness inside him, then tries to figure out why. Their waiter might as well be born in England from a Japanese parent, but he doesn't look half at all despite his height, and he does have a little bit of an accent.

“Are you Japanese?” He finds himself asking before the man has completely pulled back, blaming his slightly intoxicated state for daring to ask, and the man pauses.

“I thought you might be too.” He says in splendid Japanese, his voice somehow much stronger and deeper and Keito almost feels like crying hearing it because it feels so much like home.

Keito feels the looks of his friends on him as he looks up at the other man, wondering what to reply, but the genuinely happy smile on the man's face encourages him.

“I've been wondering about you too.” He says, knowing this isn't very courteous, but who cares. They're both in a foreign country. “Are you from Tokyo?”

“Yeah, you too?” The man asks, glancing up at a sound from the kitchen like he doesn't have time to linger but wants to. “University?”

“Exchange year.” Keito explains. “Working?”

“Sick of home.” Their waiter smiles, giving Keito an almost flirty look as he leans down a bit. “I'd love to chat with you later, if you want.”

“Ehm. Sure.” Keito agrees, surprised at the proposal but happy to accept, wondering how that is supposed to work.

“I get off at eleven.” Is all he says, and Keito's left speechless as he's offered another hot smile and then the man has left to continue his work.

His friends immediately start asking what they talked about, but Keito just shrugs and says that he's definitely Japanese at least. Their focus quickly changes into asking about the waiter's number for the poor girl who clearly finds him as attractive as Keito does. He glances at his phone screen to see the time, and he's not sure whether he feels relieved or terrified to see it's 22:42.

It takes a while for them to sort out who's paying for what, some having cash and some cards, and a few of the ones on the drunker side are having troubles figuring out how much of the check is their responsibility.

And in the end, after the cute girl who took their orders has made sure they all paid and they're getting up to leave, it's already just a couple minutes to eleven and Keito wonders how he's going to do this.

“Let's go clubbing guys, come on!” One of the more intoxicated girls call, and there's some agreeing, but Keito's not that up for clubbing normally and especially not now.

Another girl says she has to get home, but the hesitant ones are being rapidly convinced. Keito waits for the girl going home to say goodbye and leave while the project of convincing the final hesitant guy goes on, before saying he's not coming, either.

He gets a couple eye rolls, some attempts at urging him along anyway, but they drop it rather quickly. Keito knows they think he's no fun in general, since he's not that into getting drunk or going clubbing, but he's okay with them thinking that. In reality, he's never really been clubbing and his confidence about it isn't too high, and he feels like he'll just make a fool of himself if he goes.

It takes a few more minutes for them to decide which direction they're going, but then they stumble off under laughter and loud talking and nobody takes notice of Keito just staying where he is instead of leaving.

It takes him about five seconds after they left before he starts second guessing this decision, but luckily, he doesn't have nearly enough time to freak out.

“You're not a club person?” Words in Japanese are spoken behind him, and he quickly turns to face Yuto leaning against the corner of the house with a lit cigarette in his hand, like he's been standing there for a while, and so he figures Yuto heard a lot of that conversation.

Keito considers just saying no, but then takes in Yuto's appearance, the long black coat hanging lazily off his shoulders, the dark plaid scarf paired with ripped black jeans and the cigarette, and he feels like no isn't the right answer here.

“... Not with them.” He ends up saying, watching Yuto smile and lazily push himself away from the wall he's leaning against to approach Keito.

“Not too close with them, are you?” He asks, and Keito wonders if this is information for a stranger, but somehow he already feels closer to Yuto than the friends he's known since he came here.

“They're my classmates?” Keito shrugs, which is definitely answer enough, and Yuto nods in understanding, raising the cigarette to his lips and Keito follows the movement of his fingers.

He looks like one of the trashy fashionable Shibuya guys Keito's seen around at home, those who look like they don't care what they put on their frame but it still looks perfect, and Keito never interacted with one of them before. He always thought they were a bit in their own league, giving off a vibe of being cooler and more popular than everyone else, and even though Yuto has that, his smile is genuine and kind.

“I guess it's difficult finding close friends when you're an outsider.” Yuto says, but his tone is light and he doesn't appear to want to talk about that. “Want one?”

It takes Keito two seconds to realize the offer concerns a cigarette, and he figures he was caught staring way too hard. “Uhm, no, thanks. I don't smoke.”

“Okay.” Yuto shrugs, but smiles and starts walking, so Keito automatically follows despite not knowing where they're going. “So how did you end up here?”

Keito briefly goes through his own story, figuring there's no point in pretending he doesn't miss home and what he had back there, but still emphasizes he loves it here. Yuto just nods to agree, occasionally smiles and watches him while leading Keito through town and Keito doesn't care where they're going since they're still walking along crowded streets.

Yuto talks about himself too, about that his parents wanted him to go to law school but he hates studying, that he didn't want to do anything they expected of him, so he decided to just leave and do something completely different. He's been here almost a year now, and he loves it, too. Keito watches him as he speaks, watches his perfect face illuminated by yellow street lights and neon signs, watches his soft hair brush against his cheeks in the mild wind.

“Besides, no one here judges you no matter how you look or what you wear... or who you fall in love with, do they?” He asks as a finish to his sentence, and Keito's so busy absorbing his beauty that he almost doesn't hear it. He knows from Yuto's smug grin that his jaw probably dropped at the very emphasized last part, and after another moment, he realizes they've stopped.

“Uhm... No. I guess not.” He finally gets out, looking from Yuto's pretty face to the sign of the place they've stopped outside, realizing it looks like a shady club down slim stairs illuminated in pulsing purple. “Where are we?”

“I figured that if you're not a club person with them, maybe you could be with me?” Yuto says, raising an eyebrow and even though his tone is suggestive, his expression is honest. “I like to go dancing after I get off work.”

“I...” Keito starts, watching the colourful stains on the walls in the stairway, and he thinks that if his mother could see him about to go into a place like that she'd have an aneurysm. But he's still considering it, thinking that Yuto is clearly everything he's not, and what else should you do abroad besides do stupid things. “Maybe? I'm pretty sure I've never been to a place like this.”

It's somehow so easy to confess to Yuto what he's not been able to say to his friends in months, but he muses that maybe it's the Japanese that helps. Or that Yuto could tell his type immediately and doesn't seem to care that he's a typical good boy.

“There's a first time for everything, isn't there?” Yuto grins with a wink, and Keito's already agreed. “My friend works the wardrobe so she'll even make sure no one steals your coat.”

“Sounds reassuring.” Keito says ironically, but he smiles and he feels ridiculously excited to do something like this, and Yuto just nods like “it does right?”, then starts heading down the stairs that feel sticky under Keito's shoes as he follows.

Yuto talks to the girl in the wardrobe, who's pretty cute despite the septum piercing and arms covered in tattoos of strange symbols, but Keito can barely hear what they're saying even out here. There's thumping club music without any lyrics wading out from the dancefloor, and as Keito peeks through the doorway he sees a smoky crowd of people illuminated by neon lights. He also sees couches and chairs on the other end and frowns as he realizes someone just threw up over there.

But he feels a hand on his shoulder before he can get too invested and subsequently grossed out over the scene, and he turns to look at Yuto's grin instead.

“Want to drink something? Shots?” He asks, voice raised to be heard over the music, and Keito shrugs, letting Yuto interpret that the way he wants to. Apparently, that meant yes since he's tugged along towards the bar, where the counter top is see-through and lit up in green.

“Tequila?” Yuto asks, leaning his forearms against the bar while looking up at the blackboards with drinks listed on them, and Keito makes a face.

“Anything else.” He says, because he really hates tequila. Besides, he sat by once when his friend got completely trashed on tequila and watched her throw up for three hours.

“Fireball!” Yuto calls, and Keito figures that wasn't a question since Yuto's already pulling his card from his wallet and waves at the bartender, who lights up enough that Keito figures Yuto knows him too.

In fact, he finds it surprisingly disturbing how the bartender smiles when Yuto leans forward to tell him his order, how he barely lets Yuto go with his eyes even to get the whiskey bottle, and how Yuto just smiles back like they have some kind of secret. It's not just friends smiles anyway.

But when their shots are poured into old washed out glasses, Yuto's focus returns to Keito, and he finds himself feeling stupid for being jealous of a random bartender smiling at a guy he just met tonight. So he just raises his glass and even smiles back when Yuto does, then downs the shot. It burns but it's kind of good too, and he tries to recall last time he had a shot but he can't think of it.

“Now, let's dance!” Yuto calls, setting his small glass down on the counter with an inviting smile, and Keito follows him like a moth follows a flame.

He doesn't like the music, he doesn't really like the flashing lights and he can't say he likes being shoved in between lots of sweaty drunk people either, but still, it feels just right. Yuto is gorgeous and keeps grinning like he's never as happy as he is here, hips swaying to the beat and his dark eyes never leave Keito. Keito isn't exactly sure how it happens, who approaches who, but suddenly Yuto's arms are draped over his shoulders and those hips and that knowing smile are much closer than they were.

The first grind of Yuto's hips into Keito's could be considered an accident, but the next definitely isn't, Yuto's hips rolling to the beat of the music and his fingers trail patterns over Keito's neck, smile brushing Keito's temple as Yuto leans in.

Keito feels his own eyes widen, knows he must look caught in the headlight but he's never had anyone so blatantly suggest sex to him before. Definitely not a near stranger.

Still, it feels sinfully good, the friction making him rapidly harden despite himself, and the feeling of Yuto slowly doing the same is fantastic. Keito involuntarily fists Yuto's loose shirt, gasp drowned in the thumping music and he wants to tell Yuto to stop at the same time as he doesn't want to stop at all. His cheeks are burning, but he's not sure if it's arousal or embarrassment, at being hard like this when there are so many people around, or at how he wants Yuto so much right now he doesn't even care he has no idea where he is or what happens later or what Yuto's last name is. It's still secretly thrilling though, being so completely out of his comfort zone, feeling so lost and still so safe because he knows what he wants and it's so much easier to admit it to himself when he's not in his right mind. He wants Yuto, and he doesn't care how it happens as long as it does.

A moan tears from his lips as Yuto rolls his hips particularly slow and pointed, their erections rubbing together and Keito's hands tighten in Yuto's clothes as he arches up against him, and he bites his lip because he can't believe he just moaned in public. That he even lets himself be seduced on a dirty dancefloor.

But then he feels Yuto laugh against his ear, a kiss being pressed against his temple, and suddenly Yuto's hand is around his wrist and Keito's being tugged along. He tries to hide the bulge in his pants, even though no one is looking at him, but he's not sure if it's more incriminating or not.

Yuto guides him off the dancefloor, down a corridor and through a swinging door to a dimly lit bathroom, paint stains in the sinks and dirt ingrained between the tiles, one lightbulb clearly broken. But Keito doesn't get that good of a look at it before Yuto pulls him into a stall with graffiti on the walls and more or less wet paper towels all over the floor, locking the door behind them before unceremoniously pressing his lips to Keito's.

Keito just accepts the kiss, his lips parting on a gasp as Yuto walks him back against the thin wall of the stall, pressing up close against him and the contrast of cool wall and hot body is almost too much for him. There's a tongue slipping between lips, and the kiss deepens, Keito doing his best to keep up, grabbing onto Yuto's shirt while trying not to get too drunk on his scent and his body.

Yuto's kiss is like nothing Keito's ever had before, none of the soft and slow that he tried out in high school or he shared with his first and only secret boyfriend. It's urgent and sexy and Keito just feels a shameless need to get off. He grinds his own hips up against Yuto's that press into his, both of them hard through their clothes and Keito moans into the kiss, way more turned on by this than he'd ever admit. He hasn't had sex in years and a small part of him is nervous, worries what will happen and who will do what and if he still remembers, but the majority of his brain just wants to let loose, grab Yuto's hips and rub off until he comes in his jeans without feeling sorry about it.

The kiss just gets dirtier, to the point where there's more tongues than lips, and Keito's embarrassment at how shameless he is only heightens his arousal. He feels one of Yuto's hands relocate from his side, feels it sliding down over his shirt but he still jumps when it cups his erection through his pants, squeezing, and Keito falls out of the kiss with a groan that echoes off the walls. He feels Yuto smile against his cheek, that hand slipping a little further up to undo Keito's pants enough to get his hand inside jeans and underwear to wrap around him directly.

Keito's eyes squeeze shut as he pushes up into Yuto's firm grip, little desperate moans falling from his lips as he rolls his hips, wordlessly begging Yuto to get him off.

“Mmm, feels good.” Yuto mumbles, lips dragging along Keito's cheekbone to his ear, and Keito almost spontaneously orgasms at that voice. “Can I suck you off?”

Keito shivers at the idea, wanting to ask if he heard right and if Yuto really wants to, but the little whiny moan that slips out seems to be all the answer Yuto needs since he simply drops to his knees on the filthy bathroom floor, surely ruining his pants but he doesn't seem bothered by it.

Keito bites his lip as Yuto pulls down his zipper, then grabs his jeans and underwear to drag them down enough to suffice, trying to keep from coming too fast because he has no idea what to expect. Keito's never had a blowjob before, his ex boyfriend didn't like the idea and he didn't insist.

He rests one shaky hand on Yuto's shoulder, uncertain where he gets to touch, watching with wide eyes as Yuto takes his cock in hand, giving it one calculating look before parting his lips and leaning in.

Keito's initial moan at the glorious heat is so loud he throws his own hand over his mouth, and it takes all his willpower not to start thrusting immediately. He forces his suddenly closed eyes open enough to look down, seeing Yuto's eyes half closed, eyelashes resting against his cheeks as his lips are stretched around Keito's erection, leaving glistening saliva as he slides slowly up and down, his hand with a firm grip around the base.

Keito can't stop the moans from tumbling over his lips, but he keeps his hand over his mouth to muffle them, his other hand on Yuto's shoulder clawing at the fabric and he can't keep his hips still, rolling them up as much as Yuto's hand lets him.

It's way too early, he knows he should have lasted longer, but he can't hold back and he needs to just come, so he gets out a half sentence of warning to give Yuto time to take his mouth off.

But Yuto just hums and pulls back to suckle only on the head, tightening his fist around the base just the slightest, and Keito can't keep from releasing right there into Yuto's mouth, throwing his head back and hitting the wall with a low thump that's drowned out by his high pitched moan.

He feels Yuto swallow and it only takes him higher, makes his knees weak and the final moan over his lips is almost pained as Yuto gives a few last licks to the head, almost as if he's lapping up the last bits of something good and it's too much, too sensitive. Keito pushes him off because he can't take more, and he seriously thinks his legs are going to give out until Yuto's stood up and pressed close against him, breath ragged against Keito's cheek and erection obvious against his hipbone.

“Touch me?” Yuto asks, and Keito fumbles as he reaches for Yuto's belt, nervous and post-orgasmic at the same time not a good combination for his coordination.

But he manages to get Yuto's pants open and shove his hand inside, fingers wrapping around his erection and the low moan into Keito's hair is so freaking hot. Keito starts a slow rhythm, the way he likes it himself, but Yuto's hips roll up much faster, almost fucking Keito's fist and it's hot so Keito lets him, lazily dragging lips along Yuto's throat and jaw as he does, occasionally flicking out his tongue to taste skin and make Yuto groan. It takes Yuto a bit longer, but not much before he spills hot over Keito's fingers, a soft moan in Keito's ear as he arches closer and Keito's already getting interested again.

He withdraws his hand as he feels Yuto catch his breath against Keito's neck, wondering what to do with his sticky hand and what happens now, because he wants another round or at least cuddles but he has no idea how club hook ups work.

“We should do that again with less clothes.” Is mumbled against his neck, and Keito shivers, figuring that at least he wasn't the only one enjoying it then. “Where do you live?”

Yuto cleans them both up and makes sure they're sufficiently clothed before they leave the bathroom and then the club, retrieving their coats before Keito finds a late night bus going his direction that only has a loud group of drunk teenagers on it. They don't talk on the way, and Keito spends the fifteen minute bus ride wondering what the hell he's doing, if he's gone mad, but he knows he wants more of Yuto and that's logical enough to him.

He's a bit nervous as he opens the door to his apartment, thinking he didn't clean up for a couple days, but Yuto kisses him the second the door is closed and Keito gets busy trying to get them to bed without knocking anything over. This time he finds himself naked in his own bed, knees up by his shoulders and Yuto's cock so deep inside him he feels like he's going to burst open, but it's so freaking good, and in the end he comes so hard he gets stains on his chin.

When he wakes up the next morning, he sees a sliver of the beautiful man of his dreams behind his eyelids and he tries to cling to it, doesn't want to wake up. But it's hopeless since he's already half awake, and he gets halfway through a pathetic whine at losing the amazing dream when he shifts and feels surprisingly sore. The realization wakes him enough to sense there's also a smell of bread and a masculine cologne lingering in the air.

He blinks his eyes open against the bright daylight of his bedroom, slowly taking in the clothes strewn on the floor and that's definitely the smell of toast. A sound comes from the kitchen area and he slowly pushes the covers back and digs out his pyjamas pants from under the pillow, barely daring to hope that it might not all have been a dream.

He stops in the doorway to the tiny kitchen, watching Yuto look for something on the shelf above the stove, and he can't quite believe he's there despite his messy hair and the fact that he's wearing Keito's sweatpants that were on the bathroom floor yesterday.

“Hi.” Keito finally manages, voice a little hoarse, and Yuto jumps in surprise before turning to face him.

“Hi.” He replies, smiling shyly and he's even more gorgeous in daylight and with slightly dirty hair. “I hope you don't mind me staying for breakfast.”

Keito smiles back, thinking that he wouldn't mind if Yuto stayed much longer. He has a feeling that Yuto could be the piece of home he's been missing all along.


End file.
